


News

by seeminglyincurablesentimentality (myinnerchildisbored)



Series: Rose Shelby vs. All the Bastards [8]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 21:59:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18882079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myinnerchildisbored/pseuds/seeminglyincurablesentimentality
Summary: When Rose met Grace.(Set after Season 2, just, Rose is seven)





	News

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hollandroad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollandroad/gifts).



> So, I received this lovely, elaborate, thoughtful comment from hollandroad, asking me not to do...this. Which got me all inspired. Bummer.

“Fuck…”

Rose stood shivering by the side of the cut, her knickers and vest dripping with brownish water. Her dress and boots were gone. James was bursting his shite laughing. His own clothes were right where he’d left them, too worn to be robbed, lucky bastard.

“It’s not bloody funny,” Rose groaned, aiming a half-hearted kick at him.

He was couldn’t catch his breath long enough to disagree. Rose glared at him.

She’d be killed.

An hour ago, Pol had stuffed her into her best dress and spent an extraordinary amount of time braiding Rose’s unruly mass of hair; Rose had only been permitted to leave under the condition that she’d be back by noon and without so much as a smudge on her.

It would have been fine if she’d only gone down to the corner to get a bag of sweets, which had been the plan; but then James had come running with a stack of cigarette cards he’d won from Billy at arm wrestling, feeling lucky and keen to add another win to his day. His excitement had been infectious and before she knew it, Rose had wagered her treats against his cards; she’d been halfway across the cut by the time she realised what a spectacularly bad idea it was.

And now, she’d be killed. For certain.

Unless she’d somehow manage to sneak in and get into her second-best dress…somehow.

“D’you want my jacket?” James offered, his face streaked with tears of mirth and cut water.

“Is that orright?” Rose asked.

“You can’t very well walk home in your smalls.”

James, underneath it all, really was a true gentleman.

#

It was unfortunate that James wasn’t the type of gentleman to own a proper overcoat; it would have provided some much-needed protection for Rose’s bare legs. Polly, who by a cruel twist of fate had walked into the kitchen just as Rose was easing the door shut behind her, was wielding the wooden spoon like a battle axe.

“I didn’t mean to-“ Rose yelped, trying to get out of the jacket and by extension away from her aunt’s iron grip on its collar.

“Didn’t mean to?” Polly whacked the back of Rose’s thigh. “The dress just fell off you, did it? And where-“ she struck again “are your shoes?”

“It’s not my fault there’s fucking robbers about – ow!”

Rose twisted around and finally, mercifully, her arms slipped from the sleeves, allowing her to dart away from the spoon and make a break for the stairs. The front door opened right when she came flying out of the front room, nearly taking her out. Rose skidded to a stop just in time.

“Come back here, you,” Polly was advancing from behind, “we’re not done…”

“What’s this now?”

Rose wasn’t one for the prayers but that moment she was genuinely beseeching the ground to open up and swallow her whole. Her father wasn’t on his own, there was a woman with him, he was holding the door for her. She’d a very pretty hat on, it matched her dress and coat.

“I…”

There wasn’t anywhere safe to look.

“Go on,” Polly said behind her. “You’d plenty to say a moment ago.”

Rose could feel her father looking her up and down, taking in her damp undergarments, wild hair and the red marks on her legs. It was somehow worse because he’d brought someone beautiful along, which was presumably the reason Rose had been dolled up earlier on. He’d wanted to show her off and now she looked like a drowned rat.

“How’d you manage this?” Tommy asked.

“Dunno,” Rose muttered.

“Is that right?”

She shrugged. It couldn’t go sideways any further.

“Right, well…Grace-“ her father turned to their guest “- this is our Rose, what’s left of her.”

“Hello, Rose.”

Rose glanced up at her and was met with an expression caught somewhere between sad and terrified.

“Did they rob your manners along with your clothes?” Polly said sharply.

“How d’you do?” Rose mumbled, her cheeks hot.

“Well, thank you.” Grace gave her an uncertain smile.

“Grace’s come for a cuppa tea,” Tommy said, “and a bit of a chat.”

Rose looked at him cautiously. People didn’t come to the house for cups of tea and chats; for drinks and talking business, maybe, but that was what the pub was for, really, or the shop.

“Let’s get you decent,” Polly said with a sigh, putting a hand on Rose’s shoulder and steering her past Tommy and Grace to the stairs. “Up you go, come on.”

#

Having been dried and dressed - while copping an earful about being lucky there was money coming into the house to keep her in shoes and clothes and showing a little gratitude once in while instead of mucking around like some sort of ill-reared savage – Rose descended the stairs as though she was entering a yet unchartered cave underground.

Grace, relieved of her hat and coat, was perched on the very edge of the sofa, clutching a teacup – the kind with the flowers on, the ones that were never ever used – like it was the only thing keeping her alive. Tommy was by the window, smoking, watching as Rose carefully made her way into the front room, like she’d been at sea for months and was only finding her footing on solid ground.

She stopped halfway in and stood somewhat awkwardly between the chair and the sofa, not sure how to proceed.

“Sit down,” he said.

Rose took a chair and eyed the tea, biscuits and Grace with ever increasing suspicion.

“Would you like one?” Grace picked up the plate of biscuits and held it out to her. “They’re quite nice.”

“No, thank you,” Rose whispered.

It seemed wrong to have a guest offer you things in your own house. Perhaps this was what they meant when they said you were on the backfoot.

“That’s a first,” her father observed drily.

He came over and sat next to Grace on the sofa. The seat gave way a little under his weight and it made Grace slide sideways ever so slightly, until their legs were touching. Rose and Grace both flinched a little at this.

“What’s goin’ on?” Rose blurted, despite her intentions to wait and see.

Tommy shook his head and smiled.

“No getting past you, is there,” he said.

Rose frowned.

“We’ve a bit of news.”

They traded a look at his, Tommy and Grace, a look Rose didn’t care for at all. They were in it together, she could tell, even if she hadn’t a clue what it was.

“What news?” she asked.

Grace cleared her throat, her fingers visibly tightened around the cup.

“We’re getting married.”

The water from the cut had gotten into Rose’s ears and damaged them somehow, it had to be. She tilted her head to one side and jerked it to get the water out.

“What?” she asked, when she was sure her ears were clear.

“You heard me,” Tommy said quietly.

“No,” Rose insisted.

“Grace and me,” he said slowly and deliberately, every word separate from the next, “are getting married.”

Her heart had been hammering all day – when she was swimming as hard as she could, when she found her things missing, when she’d been doing battle with Pol – but nothing compared to what it was doing now.

“Why?” she croaked.

Grace had her cup up at her mouth now, hiding behind it rather than taking a sip.

“Because I asked-“ Tommy was holding Rose’s wide-eyed stare mercilessly, “- and Grace said yes.”

Rose shifted in her seat and was surprised to feel a faint sting on her legs; it seemed like several years had gone by since she’d encountered Polly and her spoon in the kitchen. Lifetimes, even. They were looking at her now, both of them, like they were expecting something.

Rose was lost.

Once her father had made up his mind about something there was no swaying him, this much she knew.

They looked lovely sitting beside each other, with the suit and the dress and the spookily clean shoes on them; it made Rose feel impossibly scruffy.

She got up, her bones like rocks inside her.

“Congratulations.”

It sounded like someone was choking her, but she got it out and it would have to do. It was what you said when people got married, even if you didn’t think it was a good idea. It’s what they’d said to John when he’d been married off to a complete stranger and it was what they’d said, eventually, to Ada when she got married to Freddie-sad-eyes.

“Thank you.” Something was stuck in Grace’s throat as well, apparently.

Tommy’s hand found Grace’s leg and settled down, squeezing it ever so slightly, as if she was the one in need of comfort.

“Good girl, Rosie,” he said quietly.

The rock-bones inside her banged into each other and made tiny sparks, like flint did, tiny sparks that were setting her guts on fire.

“Can I go now?” she asked.

“If you like,” her father said, his eyes narrowing just a little.

“I do,” Rose said.

“Off you go then.”

It was like he was daring her to now, daring her to go and see if he cared. So, off she went.

 

#

Sleep wouldn’t come. Finn had been out cold for ages and he’d come up hours after Polly had sent Rose to bed. Her hands felt like they were made of insects, the tingling was almost unbearable.

The creaky step called out and Rose sat up a little, her ears very nearly twitching like a dog’s. Sure enough, she could hear the door to her father’s room open and close again quietly.

Rose swung her legs out of bed and half-ran, half-crept out of the room. She stopped in front of the door, suddenly unsure whether to knock or just go in. After a moment the decision was out of her hands, when the door was opened and her father, fully dressed and apparently ready to go back out, nearly walked into her.

“What’re you doin’ out of bed?” he asked.

“Can’t sleep.”

“Why’s that?”

He was leaning against his doorframe now, looking down at her.

“Uhm…”

Rose didn’t trust herself to speak, not really. There was a real danger that she might start crying and that wasn’t well received as a rule.

“D’you want to come in for a bit?”

“Can I?”

Tommy stepped aside and Rose slipped into his room. He closed the door behind them and nodded to his bed.

“In you get,” he said.

Rose got into his bed and under his blankets. They smelled of smoke. Her father sat down on the side of the bed and for a while they just looked at each other, both of them perfectly still.

“D’you have to get married?” Rose asked finally.

“No,” her father said. “I want to.”

“Why?”

She really did want to know, she wasn’t whining, there was no point in it. He took a moment, weighing up whether or not this was deserving of an answer.

“Loads of reasons,” he said finally.

Rose waited.

“You wouldn’t know it looking at her,” Tommy went on, “but she’s a though one, Grace. We get along, you know.”

“She’s very pretty,” Rose said.

“D’you think?”

“No,” Rose met his smirk with a deadly serious expression, “but you do.”

“Well, aren’t I lucky,” her father said in a voice not quite his own. “A pretty lady to match my pretty girl.”

“I’m not…that.”

“Are you not?”

“No.”

“What are you?”

“Dangerous,” Rose said without hesitation.

Her father laughed.

“Is that better?” he asked.

“Yea,” Rose nodded. “Loads better.”

He put his hand where her knee was under the blanket. Outside someone was singing drunkenly, stumbling down the road and knocking bins over by the sounds of it.

“Is she coming to live with here?”

“No,” Tommy said. “We’ll get a house of our own. A big one.”

“How big?” Rose asked.

“Fuckin’ enormous,” he smiled.

“Why?”

She frowned.

“Because we can.”

Her father twisted around, shoving her over a bit and leaned back against the head of the bed. He got a cigarette from the tin on the bedside drawer.

“Is Pol coming?” Rose asked.

“To the new house?”

“Yea.”

“No.”

Rose swallowed.

“And Finn?”

“No.”

“Who _is_ coming?”

Rose was bunching up fistfuls of sheet under the blanket.

“You and me,” Tommy watched the smoke drift towards the ceiling, “and Grace…and the baby.”

“A baby?” Rose let go off the sheet and sat up. “What baby?”

“Ours,” he said, still looking at the ceiling. “Grace’s and mine.”

Rose kicked off the blanket and knelt up.

“But you’re not even married yet,” she said.

“And we may not be for a while,” her father answered calmly. “All in good time, eh?”

“But-“ Rose was glaring at the side of his face “- so…what? Is she having your bastard?”

Tommy turned his head very slowly and the look on his face made Rose want to pull the covers over her head.

“What’d you say?” he asked.

Rose’s mouth opened and closed again.

“Go on.”

“I…ah…” Rose was scrambling for words. “It’ll be…that…a bastard…if you’re not married, won’t it?”

She knew she was right. She’d listened in on enough grown-up conversations to know what a fuckin’ bastard was.

“It’ll be your brother,” her father said quietly, “or your sister. And if I hear you call it by any other name, it won’t be good for you. Orright?”

Rose nodded frantically. He raised his eyebrows a little.

“Orright,” she said.

Tommy stared her down for another moment or two before patting the pillow.

“Lie back down, come on.”

Carefully, Rose slid back and allowed him to pull the blanket over her. He rested his hand on her head, but not for long.

“So, when are you having the wedding?” she asked, keeping an eye on him in case he got annoyed again.

He shrugged.

“Not til after the baby’s born, at any rate,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because these thing’s take time, if you want to do them properly.”

There was a bit of drink left in a glass by the lamp and he picked it up and swirled it round.

“But it’s def’nit?”

“Yea, it is.” Her father took a sip and a deep breath. “It’s the right thing, Rosie. It’ll be good, for both you and me.”

“Why?”

“Woman’s touch,” he said with a tiny smile. “Might do us good. Make us a bit more civilised.”

“What’s that?”

“My point exactly.”

“Pol’s a woman,” Rose pointed out.

“There’s different sorts of women, my little love.”

“D’you mean she’ll be good ‘cause she’s all posh?”

“No,” he said. “She’ll be good ‘cause she’s different.”

“Different how?”

Tommy looked down at Rose and put his hand back on her head.

“D’you want a story?”

Rose scrunched up her nose. She didn’t want a story, she wanted him to explain to her what on earth he was on about. He was talking in bloody riddles with his women and their different sorts of touches…how was that an answer to anything? He wasn’t going to say anymore about it now though, she knew that.

“Yea,” she said, admitting defeat.

“About what?”

Rose shrugged.

“That’s orright,” he said. “D’you know what _keshalyi_ are?”

“Yea,” Rose said. “They’re the good faeries.”

“They are,” Tommy said, his fingers scratching her scalp now, very softly. “They’re tiny, some of them no bigger than a spark from a fire. Makes them hard to see and near impossible to catch. And because it is so hard to get your hands on them, for the longest time it was said that owning a keshalyi would bring you good fortune…magic powers even. They said the _tsokane_ and the _drabane_ kept faeries in jars to help with their spells. So, once every so often, there’d be people out in the wood at night, with jars and butterfly nets, hunting for keshalyi.”

Rose felt like she was melting into the pillow. Somewhere inside her something not unlike the tiny spark of a keshalyi was kicking to remind her that she was furious at him. It was weakening though, it didn’t stand a chance. He wasn’t fighting fairly.

“So,” Tommy rearranged his legs and took another sip of his whiskey dregs, “there’s a man out in the night, a long while ago, and he’s a little pissed and on his way home through the woods, when he sees them. Loads of faeries dancing in between the trees. It’s a sight, I tell you, colours, lights, all the rest of it…so he stops dead, pours the last of his drink on the ground and creeps up with his empty bottle to get himself some good fortune.”

There was a soft clink as her father put the glass down beside the bed.

“Now, there’s one of the keshalyi not paying attention – all the others are off in a flash when they hear that great big oaf crushing the leaves and twigs underfoot – but the smallest one, _Chakano-Didlo_ her name is, she’s too busy robbing a beetle’s nest to notice the fella coming up behind her.”

He paused and Rose tilted her head a little to look up at him. He was looking off somewhere far away beyond the wall.

“He’s got her in that bottle before she knows what’s happening,” he went on. “Lucky grab, he can’t believe it himself. And now that she’s in the bottle, he can see her quite well. The prettiest thing he’s seen in his puff and she’s making eyes at him, he’s sure of it.”

“What sort of eyes?” Rose asked.

“Big, innocent, lovely eyes,” her father said. “She’s smiling at him and pointing to the neck of the bottle, motioning for him to get his thumb out and there’s something about her…he can’t not do it. He can’t deny the most beautiful creature, he’s not got it in him. So he takes out his thumb and she comes fluttering up, until she’s right in front of his face.”

He lit a cigarette and Rose could see the keshalyi sparking away from the match.

“ _D’you like me_ , she asks him, little _Chakano-Didlo_ and he nods, grinning like an arse.  _Beautiful, you are_ , he drawls. And she smiles at him and then, with the tip of her tiny pointy boot, she kicks him. In the left eye, then the right, it happens so fast he’s blinded before he’s time to fall to the ground screaming. He does, after a moment, he roars, but the keshalyi is already flittering off to rejoin her sisters.”

Tommy looked down at Rose and gave her a wink.

“See, my little love, just because something’s pretty doesn’t mean it can’t be dangerous.”

Rose watched him smoke, his hand still in her hair, her eyes growing heavy. Sleep claimed her before his cigarette was done.

When she woke the next morning, she was alone in her father’s room and the keshalyi inside her started kicking again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> tsokane - wizards  
> drabane - witches  
> Chakano-Didlo - Crazy Star


End file.
